


Phoenix

by SharkAria



Series: 1998 [4]
Category: He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: 00s references, 80s references, 90s References, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Series, Smut, Trans Character, all warnings from previous parts of the series apply, mostly written before season 5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24210493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkAria/pseuds/SharkAria
Summary: After several blissful, science-filled years in Fresno, California, Boston-born Hordak is ready to take the next step with local love of his life, Entrapta.  Prime wants Glimmer, along with a side of world domination -- but he'll settle for controlling all the money.  Catra just wants something to go right for Adora.  What could possibly happen when  helpless old Uncle Skeletor's people call to make a shocking announcement?Join the whole Horde family (and their ladies, too!) on a trip to sunny Phoenix, Arizona.The almost-conclusion of the (now early 2000's) post-college modern AU that you didn't know you needed.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Entrapta/Hordak (She-Ra), Glimmer/Horde Prime (She-Ra), Skeletor/???
Series: 1998 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621843
Comments: 93
Kudos: 117





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings/Promises: I worked hard to make the explicit, enthusiastic consensual sex between adult characters as hot as possible, but that doesn't mean I wrote the sex or the relationships morally perfect. I wrote most of this before season 5.
> 
> [Listen to the whole series soundtrack here.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1D3VjkfEn2DrF4FybHCbgJ?si=3jXvMPfgQz6L1t9cOmJqew)
> 
> Stay safe, Entrapdak, Glimmerprime, and Catradora fans!

**All I Want is You**

“Holy shit, you make politics look hot,” Catra says into Adora’s couch cushion. 

“Politics _is_ hot, when you’re fighting for justice,” Adora says from the floor, her face shining with sweat, and with other fluids. 

Catra smiles. Her entire lower half is still buzzing from her girlfriend’s recent ministrations. Or maybe that’s the cell phone vibrating under the pillow. _Off,_ she thinks as she slams her fist against the device. “You’re going to make a real scary top cop.”

“District Attorney,” Adora corrects. “If we can reach our campaign donation goal before the next deadline, I have a real shot. Those corrupt bankers will be freaking out if our team starts running the department.”

“Okay. Cop.” The phone vibrates again. _Off._

“Just because your stupid cousin brainwashed you --”

“Prime’s not stupid. Just an asshole. And I don't listen to him anymore.” More vibrating.

Adora sits up. A bead of moisture drips down between her breasts. “Who keeps calling you?”

“Beats me.” Catra reaches under the pillow and finally looks at the screen. “Oh. Huh.”

*_*_*_*_*_*

**Sugar on my Tongue**

“I know you’re responsible for Grizzlor and Flutterina getting voted off the Board of Directors.” The Betsey Johnson dress crinkles as Glimmer wiggles to get a better position, and the mattress springs creak beneath her. “I haven’t figured out how you convinced the other board members, but I know -- wow, that feels good -- I know you wanted to get rid of those two so you can go after -- yeah, more like that -- so you can go after the rest of the people who sold your firm out from under you. And let me say, it was a real dick move on your part.” 

The crinoline ruffles are pushed aside, and Prime’s flush face appears between Glimmer’s knees. “Shall I bring up a real dick move on your part? You seduced me so your mother could steal my business in the first place.” 

“You can’t prove that.” The truth is more complicated, but Glimmer doesn’t owe Prime an explanation. She reaches down and smooths his tangled blond hair against her lavender duvet. “It doesn’t matter anyway. My mom says you’re like her best employee now. God knows why.”

Prime glares up at Glimmer. “I’m competent. And there’s not much competition to be the best employee at Etherian Enterprises.” He pulls the skirts back over his head and digs his fingers into her flesh. “Except perhaps from you,” he adds, his voice muffled.

Glimmer bites her lip and smiles in spite of herself. She presses her thighs against Prime’s ears, letting him know she is ready, and she melts into the feel of his tongue. There is no denying that the man knows what he is doing, at work and in bed. _But still._ “The point stands. If you think I’m going to let you dismantle the company from the inside so you can get revenge, think again. Hey!” 

Prime upends Glimmer in a flurry of silk. He looms over her, nude but for his Italian necktie, with his eyes narrowed and his longish hair lank around his face. “Clearly my mouth isn’t a sufficient distraction from this line of discussion. Allow me to offer something else.” He opens the bedside table drawer and helps himself to a condom.

Predictable. Also, sexy. Glimmer scoots out from under Prime and rolls away, then pushes him back against the plush headboard. “All I’m saying is, watch yourself.” She points her finger in his face. “I’ve got my eyes on you.” 

Prime rolls the condom over his erection. The corners of his mouth twitch upward as he pulls Glimmer against his broad chest. “I hope you’re going to put more than your eyes on me.”

“Obviously.” Glimmer moves her skirts out of the way and straddles Prime. “First lesson of business school. _‘Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.’_ ” As she shimmies onto him, she gasps, “God, you are really hard.”

“And you are really tight. Listen, if you want to get closer to me, quit quoting Sun Tzu and grab my tie and -- ah, yes. Just like that.” 

Glimmer clutches Prime’s tie and pulls his face to hers for a breathy kiss. "Protest all you want. You still haven’t actually denied anything,” she says into his mouth as he rolls his hips against her.

“Grizzlor -- and Flutterina -- can fuck off.” Prime yanks on Glimmer’s dress zipper and pulls the bodice partway down. He wraps one arm around her waist and slips his free hand into her bra cup. “Not you though. You stay here like this.” He tweaks her nipple and thrusts against her.

Glimmer bites Prime’s muscular shoulder hard enough to leave a mark, and he growls. She tries to meet his thrusts, but the position isn’t right. “Maybe not exactly like this. You feel good but I can’t quite --”

“Say no more.” Prime removes Glimmer from his lap, then turns her with her face pressed against a pillow and her skirts flipped up over her back. The air is cool on her exposed thighs until Prime takes her hips in his large hands and slides into her again. 

Glimmer reaches between her legs to touch herself, then caresses Prime’s testicles.

Prime groans and pumps harder. “Did you learn that in business school too?” 

“No.” The man _can_ keep a rhythm. “I learned this from almost a year of screwing you.” She tugs him slightly. 

“Careful,” he says, his low voice hitching in his throat. “If you keep doing that, you could miss your chance to finish.” He reaches forward and skims his palms across her back and along her waist. 

“Don’t worry about me.” She returns her fingertips to her swollen clit. “Just keep doing -- exactly -- what you’re doing --” and with that, she tumbles over the edge.

Prime’s not far behind. He comes with a moan that will earn Glimmer a complaint from Mrs. Razz in the condo downstairs, then crashes to the mattress.

Glimmer flips over and lays unmoving, staring up at the low-lit ceiling, listening to Talking Heads on the stereo, and speculating what Adora will say if she ever learns these trysts with Prime are still happening. Frequently.

Prime yawns and stretches, breaking Glimmer’s reverie. He takes up more of the bed than he deserves as he fusses with the Windsor knot at his throat. "I noticed that you relieved yourself of your date with even greater speed than usual,” he comments.

“That wasn’t a date," Glimmer lies. Prime doesn’t need to know that she chose him over the earnest but excruciatingly dull Tri Klops. "Anyway, that fundraiser was awful. You were looking for an excuse to leave.”

“I was after you showed up in that dress.”

Glimmer glances down at her wrecked gown, then back up at the ceiling. She presses her knuckles against the soft skin above her eyelids, careful not to smudge her makeup any further. "We can’t keep doing this.”

“True,” Prime agrees. He rolls onto his side and props his head against the crook of his elbow. “We’ve ruined a lot of expensive clothes this way.”

“You know what I mean.”

He raises a single pale eyebrow. “We can’t keep fucking because you think I’m secretly undermining your family's business to take revenge on all my opponents? Paranoia doesn't suit you, Sparkles --”

“And feigning innocence doesn't suit you. Don’t treat me like I’m an idiot."

“Perhaps you hoped I would slink off after the buyout, but I decided to stay, and as the frat brothers in the trading unit would say, I’m 'crushing' it.” He examines his nails with a sated, almost feline expression on his face. “Are you sure you’re not simply jealous?" 

“Of course not,” Glimmer mutters as she sits up. It’s not that Prime, with his colossal ego, is doing an unexpectedly good job as Mom’s underling. It’s that he’s trying to tank the firm and thinks he’s being sneaky about it. 

Also, despite his many glaring faults, Prime is utterly captivating and she finds herself climbing him like a tree at every opportunity, which makes it particularly difficult to concentrate on thwarting his schemes.

"It all comes down to this,” Prime murmurs. “You don’t trust me because you nurse a grievance against me. I feel similarly about you.” He rests his chin on his knuckles and smiles. “Yet we'll end up spending the long weekend in bed, again.”

He’s so annoying. And hot. And right. 

Glimmer sighs in resignation. "I'm not paying for takeout this time. It's your turn.” 

Prime only smirks.

As Glimmer rises, she peels the stained gown from her body and allows the garment to fall to the floor. She chooses a sheer pink robe from the closet and says over her shoulder, "Order my usual from Zodac's."

"That place is a grease pit."

"Stop complaining. You always just get a Greek salad with dressing on the side and like a hundred plain dry chicken breasts.” She slips into the robe and turns around to confirm that Prime is actually doing her bidding, only to get distracted by his chiseled musculature. "Anyway, um. Don't forget that I like extra tzatziki sauce.” 

Prime wrinkles his nose in what is surely performative disgust, but he grabs his cell on the bedside table to make the call. 

Before he can dial, the phone rings in his hand. He furrows his brows as he looks at the name on the LED display, then answers. “What is it?”

The voice on the line sounds feminine, but it is too soft to make out the words. _What woman is calling Prime late on a Friday night?_ The thought comes before Glimmer can suppress it.

Prime grunts monosyllabically, then says tersely, “Check the flights. And hold on.”

He places the phone against his chest and looks up to meet Glimmer's eyes. “I still expect to spend the entirety of Memorial Day weekend with you, but I must take care of some family business at my uncle’s ranch in Arizona tomorrow night.” He scratches his stupidly flat bare stomach. “Come with me.”

*_*_*_*_*_*

**Underneath it All**

Hordak snaps his phone shut and tosses it on the floor next to the mattress. So much for his plan to propose to Entrapta this weekend.

“Who was that?” Entrapta murmurs against his neck. She is all squished up against him, with her wonderful soft curves filling the spaces between his sharp angles. 

“My uncle’s property consultant.” Hordak blinks up at the ceiling and tightens his arm around Entrapta’s waist. “She wants us to come visit Skeletor in Phoenix right away. Tomorrow, if possible.”

“You and me?”

“No -- I mean, you can come, but -- me and Catra. And Prime.” Hordak’s lip curls involuntarily.

Entrapta sits up. Her oversized No Doubt t-shirt slips down her shoulder where she’s cut out the neckline. “Why?”

“The consultant wouldn’t say. As far as I know, Uncle Skeletor has been essentially comatose for years. I haven’t seen him since I was in high school, when he still lived with us at the house in Massachusetts. And even then, I hardly ever spoke to him.” Hordak runs his hand down his long face. “If she’s calling in the whole Horde family, maybe --”

“Maybe he’s dying,” Entrapta finishes. 

Hordak lets the words hang in the air. He stares at the bootleg Trigun episode on the muted TV that’s hooked up to the CPU, with the oddly-worded fansubs scrolling across the screen. _If you only face forward, there is a thing you will miss to see,_ mouths Vash the Stampede.

Entrapta traces her fingertip across Hordak’s bare chest, along the border of his birthmark. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“Would you?” Hordak asks, too quickly. He always asks too much of her. “You don’t have to, of course. I know you planned to use the weekend to tinker with the code for your prototype --”

“It’s fine. We’re not meeting with the potential investors for a month. I’ll pack the laptop and a soldering iron.”

Hordak exhales and smiles. It’s hard to imagine facing Prime without Entrapta nearby. “I’m sure Catra will be pleased to see you, and Adora too.” 

“Yeah! And I’ve never been to Arizona. It’ll be fun!” Entrapta says with a grin. “I mean, except the part about your uncle on his deathbed.” She looks down at her lap as she rolls the hem of her shirt between her thumb and forefinger. “Family is weird.”

“Yes. It is.” Hordak glances at his sock drawer, where he’s hidden the carved wooden box with the moonstone ring. Hopefully, some family can be chosen.  
*_*_*_*_*_*_*

[to be continued]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re: Prime: Yes! He's a repugnant, genocidal personality cult leader in canon. In this series, he's a manipulative liar and often abusive to family. Not excusing the behavior I wrote for him here! Just letting you know I might be going my own way a little bit with his AU characterization, in case that concerns you :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Catra texted. She just left the airport,” Hordak reports as the car shoots past Buckley, thirty minutes outside of Phoenix. “Good thing my cousin is on my side these days. Not like -- you know.”
> 
> Entrapta doesn’t say anything for a long time. It’s not until she drives over the 303 interchange that she finally responds. “You sound worried.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope the wait has been worth it. Thanks for sticking with this series! If it feels a little lopsided on the couples right now, I promise significant amounts of M to E-rated sex and angsty feelings discussions for all OTPs in later chapters.
> 
> TW: non-explicit, brief, vague mention of long ago childhood trauma (death of important adults)

**Self Esteem**

“It’ll be fine,” Hordak declares confidently in Cathedral City as he unfolds himself from the passenger seat to pump gas. “We’ll pay our respects and get the hell out of there.”

“Sounds good, babe,” Entrapta agrees as she scrapes insect wings from the windshield.

“Prime might not be so bad this time,” Hordak adds hopefully in Blythe as Entrapta ignores a red light. “Maybe he’ll just stand around and keep his mouth shut. He’s kind of weird about death.”

“Who isn’t?” Entrapta answers over the horn of the semi-trucks she’s cut off.

“Catra texted. She just left the airport,” Hordak reports as the car shoots past Buckley, thirty minutes outside of Phoenix. “Good thing my cousin is on my side these days. Not like -- you know.”

Entrapta doesn’t say anything for a long time. It’s not until she drives over the 303 interchange that she finally responds. “You sound worried.”

Hordak swallows as he gazes at the hills beyond the window. Gnarled shrubs jut up from the pinkish grey dirt like zombie fingers clawing out of sandy graves. 

He looks back at the most beautiful, loving, honest woman in all the world, the woman who long ago earned the right to hear the truth from him unvarnished. “I’m terrified.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*  
**Dirt Off Your Shoulder**

The compact rental is less than a year old, but the A/C emits burnt dust as Catra drives south on the interstate out of Sky Harbor. The low-slung industrial buildings and lawn-free tract house neighborhoods thin out as she drives up the bowl of the Valley of the Sun, and soon the car is surrounded by scrubby foothills. Beside her, Adora periodically grunts into the cell phone, listening to, more than participating in, a campaign call that has been going strong pretty much since the moment of deplaning. 

“Do you think they allow real clouds in Arizona?” Catra mumbles, eyeing the haze suspended above the mountains. 

Adora ignores her girlfriend and says into the receiver, “Tell the Congressman I acknowledge his invitation. No. No, I don’t have an answer for him.” She claps the phone shut and turns to Catra. “Does your uncle’s place have DSL?”

“Sure. A rich guy like him? He must.” Catra doesn’t actually know, since she hasn’t visited Uncle Skeletor since he moved west. It’s entirely possible that he lives in some hundred year-old adobe brick outpost with original electrical wiring. But there’s no reason to tell Adora that. “Anyway, what was the call about?”

Adora sighs heavily, then points to a tangle of dead brambles in the median strip. “Hey look, are those tumbleweeds?” 

“Answer the question.”

Sticking out her lower lip, Adora blows her bangs out of her face. “My fundraising numbers came in, and they’re garbage. Like, even worse than we expected. And since it’s all publicly available information, people are talking about whether I still have a chance in the DA election, or if I should drop out. Anyway, Congressman Norwyn’s aide called offering to send some serious cash -- ”

“What’s the catch?”

“I have to endorse Norwyn in the Senate primary.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Catra signals and merges into the exit lane. “Norwyn must be really worried about the liberal youth vote if he’s asking _you_ for an endorsement.”

Adora sighs again. “Yeah. And apparently he’s figured out that I’m really worried about the suburban moderates.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“What do you think? I can’t help _Norwyn_. He’s running against Micah.” The orange afternoon sunlight angles into Adora’s eyes, and she winces. “I would never, ever do that to the Lieutenant Governor. Or to Glimmer.”

“So you didn’t agree to the exchange, but you didn’t say no, either.” Catra turns off the main drag and onto a two-laner that cuts through a swath of sagebrush. “Probably the right call. You might be able to string the congressman along for a while. Extract some of his money without a commitment.”

“That’s not how I do things.”

Catra scoffs. “You’re a great attorney, and the press loves you, but you’ve never run for office before. If your accounts are depleted, your campaign is dead.”

Adora crosses her arms in front of her and says nothing.

They sit in silence for a while as Catra drives along, dodging lizards that scuttle across the road. Finally, the pavement ends at a wrought-iron gate set into a split-rail fence. On the arch above the gate, “Snake Mountain Ranch” is spelled out in bent horseshoe lettering.

“You ready for this?” Adora asks, placing her hand on Catra’s knee.

Peering up the long gravel driveway, Catra sucks air through her teeth. She imagines her uncle, wrinkled and comatose, slipping away into oblivion. But her thoughts shift quickly to memories of fragrant white lilies arranged atop four oak caskets, baby Hordak’s tiny pink fist enclosed in her own chubby tan hand, Prime’s black mourning suit and red eyes and teenaged snarl. 

Catra turns away from the sunset and looks into Adora’s eyes. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

**What’s Love Got to Do With It**

The funky horseshoe gate in the middle nowhere confuses Glimmer when she and Prime pull up to the ranch property mid-morning, but as Prime drives over the hill, past the expansive horse stables and paddock, the clutch of stucco guest cottages, and the sprawling, three story Spanish-tiled mansion, she comprehends that the Horde’s Massachusetts wealth is downright modest compared to the family’s Southwest riches. 

“I’m accustomed to nice places, but this is really something else,” Glimmer comments as Prime turns another corner, and she glimpses a view of Phoenix down in the valley below. Perhaps her then-middle class father felt this way the first time her mother brought him to the Bright family’s Wales estate.  
“Skeletor gets to enjoy all this because I’ve been managing his money for so many years,” Prime boasts as he parks the car in front of the pool house.

They walk into the suite, which is more like a bachelor’s pavilion bedecked with floor-to-ceiling accordion sliding glass doors, sheer curtains, an enormous fireplace and a private bar, all of which stand in service to the glistening Olympic length pool. After dropping their bags at the entryway, they stretch out together on the massive bed, and, without bothering to turn down the sheets or remove all their clothes, have lazy but nevertheless satisfying sex.

Later, after a change into her bikini and a quick dip in the pool, Glimmer flops on a padded lounge chair and marvels at the strength of the afternoon heat emanating from the paver stones, even here in the shade of the bluff.

“Get back in the water,” Prime calls from his seat on the infinity ledge, his bulk framed by the Sonoran vista beyond. “I’m done with my laps.” He yanks off his swimcap, and his tangled wet hair slaps against his neck.

Glimmer pulls the oversized sunglasses from her face and sets them aside to ogle Prime’s muscular torso. Between the razor burn on his pecs, the hair-product breakout across his shoulder blades, and the long trail of Glimmer's bite marks from his collarbone to his navel, Prime’s pale skin is pretty torn up. But if anything, the blemishes make him seem less polished, and even more alluring. Dammit. 

“I think I'll stay here.” Glimmer arches her back and shifts her hips so that Prime has a view of the hickey he left on her thigh the other night. “I'm so comfortable.”

Prime raises one eyebrow. “Come on.” He jerks his sharp chin in the direction of a thicket of yucca plants, which obscures the view of the pathway that leads to the main residence and guest cottages. “No one up there can see us down here.”

The invitation is tempting. But it’s getting late, and Glimmer can’t shake her mother’s lessons about being a good guest. “Shouldn’t you dry off and say hello to your uncle? We’ve been here for hours and we didn’t even let him know we arrived. And besides, you mentioned he has health issues --”

Prime rolls his eyes as he slips into the water up to his shoulders. “Skeletor will keep for another day. His lawyers probably just need me to update some signatures on the conservatorship order.” He glides to the pool edge closest to Glimmer’s lounger. “Anyway, it’s long past the man’s bedtime. Even at his most formidable, he would start happy hour right after lunch and pass out at sunset.” 

“If you say so,” Glimmer shrugs. It’s kind of weird that Prime doesn’t seem concerned about his ancient uncle. But not all families are as close as her own.

“Stop thinking about Skeletor,” Prime says in a low voice, breaking Glimmer from her reverie. “Think about me.”

 _I think about you way too much_ , Glimmer doesn’t reply. Instead, she casually flips her hair with the back of her hand and says, “I guess I will join you. I’m getting warm anyway.” She rises and sucks in her stomach out of habit, even though the softness of her belly should be, by now, no surprise to Prime. 

As soon as Glimmer submerges herself in the water, Prime is on her. He slides his hands down her waist, then hips, then under her bottom to pull her legs apart. As he grinds up against her, he nips her lower lip and groans.

Glimmer wraps her arms around Prime’s neck, tangles her fingers in his slippery wet hair, and sighs contentedly into his mouth. Back home in Boston, it’s become increasingly difficult to push aside her guilt over the fact that she secretly is sleeping with an untrustworthy man who makes her friends furious and almost certainly wants to upend her mother’s business. But out here . . .

Out here, she can have the hottest man she’s ever known writhing in the palm of her hand. Literally.

Glimmer reaches down and brushes her fingertips against Prime’s abdomen, then slips her hand beneath the elastic of the ridiculous skin tight, lime green swimsuit that only he can make look good. “You know, pool sex isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” she says, but she grabs him anyway.

“Fortunately, you seem to have found an alternative,” he rasps in her ear.

“I expect something too, afterward.” 

“Of course. It would be my pleasure,” Prime says, and he spits out most of the words smoothly, though his voice hitches when Glimmer puts her other hand under his waistband. "You’re a skilled negotiator."

“I must have water in my ears. I thought I heard you give me a compliment,” Glimmer teases. She tilts her head and scrapes her teeth along his clavicle over the marks she made earlier.

Prime leans his head against the pool ledge and closes his eyes, clearly reveling in Glimmer’s touch. One side of his mouth curls up. "Jesus, you are good at that.”

“Wow, even more praise. I think the heat is getting to you.” She twists her wrist in the way that he likes.

“Oh, Glimmer,” he mumbles, his eyes half closed and glassy. “Being like this with you could be worth it.”

"Worth what?" she asks. He’s so hard; maybe she should reevaluate her stance on pool sex.

“Losing my business to your treacherous seduction.”

“You can’t prove --” Glimmer starts her usual lazy non-protest out of habit, then breaks off as his words roll around in her brain. She slows her strokes, then removes her hands.

Prime opens his eyes, but instead of the exasperation Glimmer expects to see on his face, his expression is open, maybe even hopeful.

Maybe it’s time to tell Prime the truth about her first night with him. Maybe he would actually believe her, and then he would abandon his pathetic but potentially dangerous efforts to undermine Etherian Enterprises from the inside, and then -- what? She could stop sneaking around with him? Try something closer to a real relationship?

_Oh no._

"What's wrong?" Prime asks, pulling her closer.

 _I like you._ "Nothing.” Glimmer presses her lips to his. “Stop talking."

“Gladly. Kiss me again,” he says, and she does.

“Did you see the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle wallpaper in our cottage?” A nasally female voice rolls down the bluff, along with the clap of footsteps on the pavement beyond the yuccas. 

Glimmer opens her eyes and finds Prime staring back at her. “Were you expecting other people?” she whispers.

Prime’s brows are knit together in confusion. “No --”

“It’s not the wallpaper I have a problem with. It’s the bunk beds,” a familiar-sounding male voice adds, which elicits peals of women’s laughter.

“At this point, I’d take the bunk beds over the Elvis print sheets on our mattress!” 

Glimmer knows that voice well. 

Catra is the first to round the corner into Glimmer’s view. “But you see, Adora, at least we don’t have to look at the Elvis sheets when we’re sleeping on them.” She’s wearing a red one-piece and Ray Bans, and she is followed by Adora in a gold bikini top and a white cover-up. Then comes Prime’s little brother Hordak, clad in board shorts and a tee shirt, his once blue hair grown out to blond again, and Hordak’s purple-haired California girlfriend clomps behind him on platform flip flops, with her curves wrapped in a high waisted black two-piece. Everyone clutches matching beach towels and canned sodas. 

“What freaks me out is the full length velvet Elvis portrait hung up directly across from the toilet, and the Elvis figurines all over the dresser, and the -- oh.” Catra stops so suddenly that Adora almost bumps into her. “Um. Hey cuz. And uh, Glimmer.” 

Belatedly, Glimmer drops her arms from around Prime’s neck and pushes him away. “Hey Catra, ”she replies softly. “Hey Adora.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

[to be continued]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Lots of Entrapdak and Catradora coming up. And don’t worry, I didn’t forget that Prime is uhhhhh...bad. No matter how much he probably likes Glimmer. I promise!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’ve gotten so much therapy, you could be a professional,” Adora says against Catra’s mouth. 
> 
> “Shut up,” Catra says with a smile. “That’s professional advice, by the way.” She nudges Adora toward the mattress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I made up whatever I needed for the plot on conservatorship law, so that’s probably all wrong, don’t take any of it as legal advice, ha.

**Strictly Business**

“Cannonball!” Entrapta shrieks beside Hordak, a split second before she plunges into the water. The fast-following splash drenches Prime and Catra’s friend, Glimmer. 

_My darling, my soulmate,_ Hordak thinks, alongside irrepressible anticipatory terror over his brother’s reaction.

Entrapta surfaces, her ponytails snarled and soaked. She float-bounces back toward the group standing at the pool’s edge and calls, “Come on, we came here to swim! Let’s all -- oh, hi Prime. And, uh, you,” she adds as she bumps into Glimmer. “I’m Entrapta, remember? We met last summer.” She grins radiantly, then bloops back underwater.

Prime stands statue-like, still waist deep in the pool, his gaze fixed on Entrapta, his fists clenched and white-knuckled. 

Beside Prime, Glimmer wipes a sopping mat of pinkish-highlighted hair out of her dark eyes. There can be just one reason why she’s here with Prime at Snake Mountain Ranch.

“You two, huh?” Catra says of Prime and Glimmer. “Well, now we know why none of us got the pool house.” She gives a leery, sideways grin to Adora, whose lip curls in a disapproving snarl.

Glimmer grimaces as she paddles to the ladder rail. “Um -- I’m gonna --” she mumbles as she pulls herself out. Droplets splatter and steam on the paver stones as she pads away. 

“Wait, Glimmer.” Adora takes her friend by the elbow, directing her away from the group and toward the outdoor bar. The buzz of the pool filtration system drowns out whatever words they exchange.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Prime hisses to Hordak and Catra, his eyes following Glimmer as he strides up the pool steps with water streaming from his body. 

Catra makes a noise halfway between a chuckle and a groan, and she nudges Hordak with her elbow. “This is so predictable. I _told_ you he wouldn’t expect us.” Catra didn’t tell Hordak anything like that, actually, but he doesn’t correct his cousin aloud. “Look Prime, Uncle Skel’s consultant said there was ‘urgent family business’ out here in Arizona. And we’re all part of the Horde family, whether you like it or not. Right, Hordak?”

Hordak blinks, unsettled. Catra used to direct that kind of casual, exclusionary cruelty at _him_ , but never Prime. “Uh --” Hordak stutters as his tongue fails to unstick itself from the roof of his mouth.

Prime rolls his eyes, and the tendons in his neck pull taut as he grinds his teeth. He turns around and shifts his gaze between Catra and Hordak. “We all share the Horde family name, but only I take care of Skeletor and his affairs. Not you two. Certainly not Adora, or -- her.” He flicks his hand in Entrapta’s direction.

 _Asshole._ “You know her name,” Hordak says, his voice low as he finally finds his words. He glances at his girlfriend, who is contentedly backstroking toward the infinity ledge. “Entrapta and Adora deserve to be here more than your -- _companion_ \-- Glimmer,” he dares to add.

Prime examines his fingernails with an affected nonchalance that hasn’t fooled Hordak in years. “I disagree.”

“Oh my God, you are both so boring,” Catra yowls, exaggerating the syllables. Plopping her towel and unopened soda can on a teak table between lounge chairs, she jerks her chin toward the pool. “I’m with Entrapta. We came here to swim, not bicker. Hordak, if you want to hash it out with Prime, go right ahead. Personally, I’m skipping the drama.”

“There won’t be any ‘drama,’” Prime calls as Catra saunters toward the other side of the pool. He picks up his own towel, shakes it out, and snaps it around his narrow waist, concealing his inappropriately tight green Speedo. Then he glares at Hordak again and lowers his voice. “Listen to me. I’ve grown accustomed to Catra’s pathetic stray animal act, but I’ve no interest in seeing my own _little brother_ sniffing around for scraps.”

“What are you talking about?” Hordak growls. Has his brother lost his mind?

“That girlfriend of yours,” Prime says, tilting his head in Entrapta’s direction and confirming that he has, in fact, gone batshit crazy. “Clearly she didn’t grow up like we did.”

That’s true. Whereas Hordak, Prime and Catra were fed, dressed, and occasionally bailed out of the principal’s office by a phalanx of nannies who ranged from indifferent to outright hostile, Entrapta was raised by a loving family. Hordak has always felt a little jealous hearing about how Entrapta’s dad let her take apart and rewire every appliance in their home as soon as she could hold a screw driver, and how her mom cut fruit into tiny pieces for her elementary school lunches, and helped her dye her hair purple in ninth grade. Now Entrapta’s parents drive up from Hanford to Fresno on the weekends to hug their daughter and drop off homemade miniature pastries, and on every visit they tell Hordak that his Spanish is getting better, even though Hordak knows it’s still very, very bad.

But that’s probably not what Prime means. “Surely she’s shown interest in Horde finances, now that you’re both out of school,” Prime says, confirming Hordak’s suspicions.

“Never,” Hordak fumes. _How dare he imply --_ “Entrapta is no --” the very idea is infuriating, “-- no gold digger. She’s well aware you’ll never give me a dime of the inheritance. Besides, I’ve made my way in the world without your money.”

“Ah, yes, you understand. _My_ money. Because if you or Catra ever gained access to it, you’d destroy all that I’ve built.” 

“As opposed to the woman you’re fucking, who _actually_ destroyed the company you built,” Hordak growls, though his hands are trembling. _Did I just say that to Prime?_

Prime’s nostrils flare, and his eyes narrow. Then he smiles, which is the most terrifying of all. In a calm, saccharine tone, he raises his voice so that everyone can hear. “I invite you all to enjoy the ranch amenities, which were purchased with profits from investments I made on behalf of Skeletor. And speaking of which, since you came all this way, you really should visit our invalid uncle in his sickbed. I’m the only one who has performed that duty for nearly a decade, but you clearly wish to take your overdue turn.” He drops the fake smile and murmurs quietly to Hordak alone, “But don’t be stupid. If you or Catra attempt to wrest control of the trust from me --”

“Cannonball!” Catra screams suddenly.

The splash that follows is less impressive than Entrapta’s, but it is more expertly aimed. Prime is soaked once again. 

Down in the water, Catra howls gleefully as Prime storms off toward the pool house.

Hordak looks back at Entrapta, who waves at him from the other end of the pool. Her arm casts a long shadow in the late afternoon light. “The water feels great!” she yells.

“I’ll be right in,” Hordak calls. He looks down at his hands. He’s still shaking.

*_*_*_*_*_*

When the ranch staffer had opened the door to the guest cottage, Hordak had protested at being assigned a room clearly meant to appeal to kids. But Entrapta had shaken her head with a smile and had said, mysteriously, “It’s perfect. You’ll see.”

Upon returning from the semi-disastrous afternoon swim, Entrapta shows Hordak what she meant. Now his back is flat against the bottom bunk and Entrapta’s beautiful bare tits bounce in his face. 

She’s grabbed the slats beneath the top bunk and has trapped his hips firmly between her strong thighs. “This gives me a greater than usual range of trajectory,” she explains as she grinds herself down onto him, and sighs as she brushes against his pubic bone. “It’s not a true pendulum, of course, but with you here at the equilibrium point --”

“Yes. I understand. You found a way to make this work,” Hordak moans, and he closes his eyes to focus on the feeling of Entrapta riding his dick, rather than the images of goofy cartoon ninja turtles printed on the sheets above. Soon Entrapta is gasping and coming, and Hordak is falling apart with her. 

A while later, Hordak presses his lips to Entrapta’s forehead. “We need to bathe,” he says to her chlorine-scented scalp.

“Mm,” she agrees. “Don’t want to show up to your uncle’s deathbed with pool hair.” She shifts her weight onto her elbows and looks down at Hordak with a worried expression. “Sorry. That’s probably not the right way to say that.”

It’s fine,” Hordak says, and he kisses her gently in reassurance. “Honestly, I feel as though I hardly know Skeletor, even though he was my legal guardian from the time I was a baby until I left for college. And like I said, it’s been years since I’ve seen or spoken to him. But even when he was around, he was always kind of a mystery.”

Hordak always remembers Skeletor as dour, cold, and distant; his uncle stood tall and pale, like all the Horde men, but was perennially stooped over and bald, with greying skin and purple-blue veins snaking along his shiny pate; his face seemed forever set in an unsmiling scowl. Until he grew ill and the nurses dressed him in flannel pajamas and hospital gowns, he nearly always wore single-breasted navy blazers with gold buttons, khakis, and tassel loafers. “Standard issue prepster,” Catra used to say of him behind his back, when she was going through her punk-anarchist phase in high school.

But there is that unframed, faded family snapshot leaning against a leatherbound copy of _The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Volume Five_ in Skeletor’s study that Hordak found when he was a kid after Catra had dared him to snoop, hoping to get him in trouble with Prime. In the picture, Hordak’s father stares directly at the camera lens with a snarky grin, with his cheekbones whited out under the glare of the sun and his arm draped over the shoulder of his nearly-as-tall, equally platinum blonde, heavily pregnant wife; Catra’s father, just as blond but slimmer, is laughing with Catra’s mother, a petite woman with brown skin and dark hair topped by a pillbox hat. Skeletor, his head still full of hair and his eyes too deep set for his young man’s face, is further back, clearly unaware the photo is being taken; he is turned partly to the side and engaged in deep conversation with a slim, shorter Asian man who wears a fitted bowling shirt and sports a gravity-defying pompadour hairstyle. It’s a confusing image that doesn’t match up with anything Hordak knows about any of his relatives, living or dead, which admittedly, isn’t much.

“You may not know him well, but Skeletor is still family. You sure you’re okay, babe?” Entrapta asks, bringing Hordak back from his thoughts.

Hordak blinks and looks up at the top bunk. Michelangelo is hollering ‘Cowabunga!’ in a speech bubble while Raphael smirks with his three-pointed spear things. “It’s not Skeletor. It’s that shithead brother of mine who’s bothering me now.”

Entrapta sits up and crosses her legs. “Why _does_ Prime think you’re trying to get the money from him?”

"Besides paranoia? Who the fuck knows. Prime thinks everyone is like him, looking to manipulate sick old men. Maybe he heard that I’m trying to recruit investors so that we can scale up your prototype.”

"Ah. That reminds me." Entrapta stands, stretches, and wraps her long damp hair into two tight buns, revealing a black strip of her natural hair color at the part. Still naked, she plops onto a Power Rangers bean bag, then takes her laptop out of her backpack, plugs it into a nearby outlet, snaps her headphones around her ears, and starts typing.

She'll be there for hours, and there’s no point to remind her to put on clothes. Besides, sometimes after a good coding session, she wants to have sex again.

Hordak rises and walks into the bathroom to take a shower. When the water is warm, he steps in and grabs a bar of soap shaped like Spiderman. It smells like bubblegum, but Entrapta will probably like that. 

As he lathers up, he ponders the inheritance money that he hasn’t cared about in years. A few hundred thousand dollars could mean full independence for him and Entrapta, instead of reliance on outside investors.

After drying off and returning to the bedroom, Hordak unzips his duffel bag to retrieve clean clothes. There’s the carved wooden box, tucked in a pouch with his underwear. He packed it just in case there was an opportunity to propose after all. If only he could get down on one knee before Entrapta, holding up the ring in one hand and a flush bank statement in the other.

Who knows? Maybe Skeletor is still conscious enough to hear out a reasonable request for funding. Maybe Hordak has a chance. Maybe Prime can go fuck himself. “Cowabunga,” Hordak whispers aloud, not feeling nearly as confident as Michelangelo.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

**Waiting for Tonight**

No matter where Catra stands in the bathroom, the velvet Elvis eyes seem to follow her. The collectible portrait would be unnerving if it weren’t so tacky.

“I can’t believe Glimmer,” Adora says from the shower.

“Uh huh.” Catra squeezes the Crest onto her toothbrush. 

“I asked her months ago if Prime was a one-time thing, and she said yes.”

“Yep,” Catra grunts. This is not the discussion she wants to have.

Unfortunately, Adora apparently does. “She lied to me because she knew I’d tell her what a bad idea he is. He associates with the worst white collar criminals in the Financial District. And she knows how Prime used to treat you when you were younger. How could she just --”

“Keep me out of it,” Catra warns through the minty foam. “I spent a year in therapy talking about how Prime treated me. I don’t need to do it here.” Hopefully that’s the end of it. She spits into the sink.

“Fine,” Adora says, and she goes silent behind the frosted glass. Sadly, the peace doesn’t last long. “But they work together! With her _mom!_ ”

“ _We_ work together.”

“That’s different.”

“Okay. Whatever.”

The water shuts off, and a moment later Adora steps out of the shower, wrapped in a terry cloth robe with her honey-gold hair tucked inside a towel. “From the way you’re acting, I’d almost think that you already knew.”

Catra starts flossing to avoid Adora’s accusatory glare. The truth of the matter is that when Catra stops by the Horde family mansion to do her laundry, she frequently comes across lacy pink plus size panties in the dryer; thus, she’s had her suspicions about Prime and Glimmer for a while. But she hasn’t bothered to say anything to Adora because she hasn’t wanted to have a stupid boring argument about it. Like now.

Spitting into the sink again, Catra notes the bloody phlegm and makes a mental note to floss more often. She rolls her eyes to the ceiling and turns around. “My horny dummy of a cousin and your short-ass best friend are grown-ups, and they can make their own bad choices. Worry about your failing DA campaign and stop trying to distract yourself with stuff that isn’t your business.”

“Ouch,” Adora says, her face falling.

“And?” Catra pushes mercilessly.

“You’re right.”

“I know.” Catra wipes the spittle from her lips and points to the bed. “Now, are we gonna fuck on those Elvis sheets, or what?”

Adora cracks a grin. “Wow. And they say romance is dead.”

"Get over here.” Catra reaches for the robe stays.

“You diagnosed my issue a little too quickly.” Adora says against Catra’s mouth. “You’ve gotten so much therapy, you could be a professional yourself.” 

“Shut up,” Catra says with a smile. “That’s professional advice, by the way.” She nudges Adora toward the mattress.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*

**The Pleasure Principle**

After Glimmer and Prime retreat to the pool house, Glimmer doesn’t want to talk about the verbal reaming she received, and Prime doesn’t say a word about his family discussion, either. She and Prime try to have sex, but everything seems off; even the most reliable positions don’t work. Eventually they end up laying on the bed side by side, sweating in the dark and masturbating until they reach separate, only minimally satisfying climaxes. Prime tosses and turns, and Glimmer stares at the ceiling until dawn.

It isn’t the sort of sleepless night that Glimmer eagerly anticipated on the plane. 

Now, Glimmer stands barefoot on the tile floor wearing her night slip, wincing against the bruised-peach light streaming in through the wall of glass, clutching the pool house phone receiver to her ear, and listening to some unnecessarily cheerful ranch staffer summoning her and Prime to “a high-falutin,’ rootin’ tootin’, son of a gun ragtime cowboy breakfast.”

“Ugh. That’s Falcon,” Prime mutters when Glimmer asks. “He grew up on Cape Cod, but he's an evangelist about all things desert.” Prime frowns at his reflection in the mirror and fusses with a lock of hair that is flopping crookedly against his forehead. “I have little interest in watching a nurse spoon feed Ensure to Skeletor, but I have to make an appearance. And I suppose you’ll want to eat.”

Glimmer’s stomach rumbles. “Eggs sound good,” she admits.

After dressing, Glimmer and Prime take the path up to the main house. They pass through a courtyard with a tiered fountain that complements the building’s traditional mission style architecture; then they walk into an airy, white-walled foyer and down a long hallway.

The interior decor mixes priceless modern Southwestern art with WASPy heritage stuff and Route 66 kitsch. On one wall, a Piranesi etching of Roman ruins hangs in a gilded frame beside a potshot-dented road sign for The Grand Canyon State. In a glass display cabinet, delicate matte-glazed ceramics and carved turquoise figurines are set between black-and-white tintype photographs of light-haired men with Horde family cheekbones and postcards from Winslow, Arizona. At the end of the hallway looms a floor-to-ceiling painting of the iconic Cadillac graveyard rendered in luminous pinks and electric greens.

Adora’s familiar laughter echoes from somewhere in the house. Glimmer’s stomach puckers again, but this time it’s from anxiety.

Prime exhales heavily and directs Glimmer through a post-and-beam archway, into a light-filled dining room.

The Horde cousins and their girlfriends are already seated at a square table set with fruit and pastry plates and adorned with a spray of fresh tropical flowers. Adora, Catra, and Hordak stop talking and start glaring when they catch sight of Prime, but Entrapta doesn’t seem to care, and she continues her explanation of something related to computers.

Silently, Prime pulls a chair out for Glimmer; then he seats himself next to the head of the table, where a single place remains unoccupied. A server emerges from a side door and plunks a goblet of orange juice in front of Glimmer and a cup of espresso in front of Prime.

“Hi there!” Entrapta greets Glimmer with a guileless smile. “Pass me a mini muffin, please!”

“Um, sure,” Glimmer answers, selecting a blueberry scone for herself before sending the plate down the table. She glances at Prime out of the corner of her eye. He’s sneering over the top of his espresso at his brother, whose expression appears equally sour.

“Pathetic,” Prime says, before taking a sip from his cup.

“I’m not sure I should bother to ask what you mean by that,” Hordak says in a voice eerily similar to Prime’s.

“You can’t conceal your thoughts from me. You’re convinced that your taste of success on the West Coast gives you the ability to usurp my power.”

“And you’re convinced that you can still intimidate me,” Hordak stammers.

“Clearly I can,” Prime answers, eyeing the part of Hordak’s birthmark that is visible above his collar.

Glimmer cringes. It’s painful to imagine her family members speaking to one another like that, and it’s downright ugly to observe Prime act so rudely to his own brother. She closes her eyes and bites into her scone so that she doesn’t have to see her Adora mouth _I told you so_ over the croissants.

Hordak shakes his head and stares at his plate. “It’s hard to believe I ever tried to impress you.”

“It’s hard to believe you ever thought you could,” Prime replies icily.

“This is an awful lot of Horde bullshit before my second cup of coffee,” Catra yawns. “Can you two save it until after the attorneys get here or whatever?”

Before the brothers can get into it any further, the sound of a mild commotion in the hallway distracts them. Another server comes out to announce, “We’ll bring out the main course shortly. But first -- your uncle is here.”

Glimmer cranes her neck. From what Prime has told her, she half-expects a nurse to wheel in a hospital bed propping up a desiccated, sunken wraith. 

Instead, a tall, broad-shouldered man strides around the corner. His bald head reflects the light from the overhead chandelier; his high cheekbones jut out of a face lined with deep wrinkles. His mouth is a sharp slash above a sharper, high-held chin. His long, age-spotted arms hang out from the short sleeves of a Hawaiian print button-down, and his skinny fingers sport several bulky association rings. His tailored khakis crease perfectly at his bony, bare ankles, and his huaraches click confidently across the tile floor until he stops at the empty place setting. Behind his rimless spectacles, a pair of exceptional Horde green eyes twinkle.

The room falls silent but for the muffled clink of glassware and the sizzle of bacon beyond the door that leads to the kitchen. Skeletor stands before them all, unsmiling, apparently taking in the view of his six guests.

Suddenly, he parts his lips in a grin so wide that Glimmer can practically see all the way back to his molars. “Look at you kids. So happy to see me. And I’m _so glad_ to see all of you,” he exclaims in a mid-Atlantic accent as thick as Martha’s Vineyard morning fog.

Everyone stares back at him for an uncomfortably long time.

Catra recovers first. “Uncle Skeletor, you’re so -- sentient. And friendly.” She clears her throat, but she doesn’t totally manage to eliminate the bewildered tone in her voice. “It looks like Phoenix has been doing you quite a bit of good.”

Skeletor throws his head back and cackles like a cartoon villain. “You could say that, Catra. You could say that.” He pulls out the chair next to Prime and eases himself into the seat. “I see you’ve brought friends.”

“You remember Adora, from back home,” Catra says, taking Adora’s hand in hers. “We’ve been together for a while now.”

“Of course. You used to climb out your bedroom window and down the drainpipe to meet up with her. Ha! You thought you were being so sneaky. Oh, yes, leave the Metamucil with me,” Skeletor directs one of the servers, who hands him a glass tumbler filled with cloudy yellow liquid. He turns to Hordak. “And who’s your lucky lady, lad?”

“Uncle Skeletor, this is my girlfriend Entrapta. We met in the applied astronomy program in California,” Hordak says, his voice tinged with pride. “We’re partnering on a project that we plan to grow into a lucrative business venture.” His eyes dart to Prime, who responds with an acidic glare.

“What a pleasure to meet you, Entrapta, purple hair and all. Lovely _and_ ambitious.” Skeletor skips Prime altogether and addresses Glimmer directly. “And who might you be, dear?”

“Glimmer Bright-Moon, Mr. Horde,” Glimmer answers. “I’m from Boston as well.”

“Bright-Moon, you say? Interesting. Very interesting, indeed.” He glances at Prime, then back at her. “I've met your parents.”

Of course he has. Just like all the old rich guys from Massachusetts.

Before Glimmer can say something more polite than what she’s thinking, Skeletor plucks a strawberry from one of the serving plates and says, “I’m so pleased that everyone in my family has come out to visit me. Especially now that I’m finally well!”

“I’ve shown up on your birthday every year since you moved here,” Prime counters testily.

“That’s true. The conservatorship requires annual signature verification, doesn’t it,” Skeletor murmurs, and Prime’s pale face reddens. “Anyway, as you can see, I feel so much better! The judge reversed the order yesterday. I’m in charge now, Prime.”

“What?” Prime protests. “You can’t --”

“Oh, but I can.” Another flash of teeth. “And there’s more. I wanted you kids to be the first to know, which is why I called you all out here to tell you personally." Skeletor raises his glass of Metamucil and grins again. “I’m getting married!”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*

[to be continued]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You must be super surprised that Skeletor isn’t comatose! Whoa! Amazing! OK Not really. Thanks for reading this far. I am writing this thing Slow, but I’ll keep showing up because I want to see how it ends. I hope you want to come on the journey, too. Happy New Year!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ _Married_ , you say?” Catra crows as she stares at Prime, who appears to be experiencing an allergic reaction to the news that he’s just lost control of the Horde trust. She stabs a sausage with her fork, the corners of her mouth turning upward. Witnessing her older cousin’s meltdown is even more delicious than the cowboy breakfast. It’ll be so much fun to draw this out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up everything regarding conservatorship laws and campaign finance laws to fit the plot. So once again, don’t use this fic for legal or any other kind of advice! 
> 
> CW: Discussion of long ago death of adults who are important to main characters. Use of the word “crazy” as an epithet. Relationship drama.
> 
> Credit where credit is due: Skeletor’s insults hail from the original He Man: Masters of the Universe. I’m not sorry.

**Anything, Anything, Anything**

“ _Married_ , you say?” Catra crows as she stares at Prime, who appears to be experiencing an allergic reaction to the news that he’s just lost control of the Horde trust. She stabs a sausage with her fork, the corners of her mouth turning upward. Witnessing her older cousin’s meltdown is even more delicious than the cowboy breakfast. It’ll be so much fun to draw this out. “Honestly I’m surprised, Uncle Skeletor, given your lifetime of bachelorhood. But allow me to offer you a hearty congratulations on your pending nuptials! I think I speak for everyone when I say how excited we all are to meet --”

“So you’re in charge of the money now?” Adora interrupts, her voice flat.

The subject change is jarring, not to mention annoying. Catra was nowhere near finished skewering Prime.

Skeletor gives Adora an old guy wink while Prime gurgles. “Yes, my dear. I’m in charge of the money.” 

“I’ll get straight to the point, then,” Adora says, glancing at Catra before returning her cool gaze to Skeletor. “I’m running as the ‘candidate of change’ in the primary for Suffolk County District Attorney, but it’s not going well. I’ll have to suspend my campaign if I don’t attract more donors.”

“Your concerns will have to wait, _Adora_ ,” Prime hisses in a tone that once would have sent Catra scurrying in fear. Now, she can only snicker at the lank blond forelock that keeps flopping into her cousin’s furious face. “Uncle, I demand an explanation. You must --” 

“Pass the hash browns, please,” Entrapta interjects as she extends an arm across the table. It’s hard to tell whether or not she’s interrupted Prime on purpose, but Hordak’s lips twitch in what appears to be a suppressed smile.

“Of course, lovely girl. Enjoy.” Skeletor sends the platter down the table, still ignoring Prime and once again revealing his receding gums in what is probably meant to be a friendly grin. “Adora, you were saying?”

“Um -- right.” Adora blinks. She seems to have deflated after her heady start. 

Catra pats Adora's hand under the table. _You’ve got this, babe,_ she tries to convey.

Adora squeezes back. Her voice is strong when she speaks again. “Right now, the only way I can get the money is by endorsing a total jerk for the Senate race. In return, he'd transfer a bunch of cash over to my account. You might know him -- Congressman Norwyn.” 

“Norwyn!” Glimmer repeats. Orange juice dribbles out of the corner of her mouth, but she wipes it away quickly. Maybe Glimmer and Prime really do belong together, what with their matching sourpuss facial expressions. “Adora, you can’t, not with him running against my father --”

“I’d rather not. That’s why I hope Skeletor can help,” Adora answers, her face like a steel mask.

"Oh, Norwyn. I’ve known him for decades. That flea-bitten fool voted down one of my biggest contracts when he was a City Councilman, right after I cut him in on a lucrative real estate development. If you accept his campaign cash now, he’ll stab you in the back later.” Skeletor glowers at his Metamucil, and Catra detects a hint of the old, familiar bitterness in her uncle’s voice. “Adora, don't endorse that brainless boob. Have my property consultant Evilyn cut a check for whatever amount you need. And catch her now, before she leaves for business in the city. Her office is near the guest cottages, attached to the garage.”

"Fantastic.” Adora pats her lips with her linen napkin, then rises from her seat. “And congrats. Can't wait to meet your betrothed." She eyeballs Glimmer and nods a quick goodbye to Catra, then leaves the room.

Skeletor picks up a slice of dry wheat toast and chomps into it, sending a cascade of crumbs down his chin. He swallows with a grimace. “And Glimmer dear, I’ll have Evilyn wire some money to your father’s campaign as well. I understand that Micah is destined for great things.”

“Uh --” Glimmer glances at Prime, who is apparently speechless with rage. “Well, thanks. I’m sure my dad would appreciate --”

“It’s a deal!” Skeletor declares. He steeples his long, bony fingers below his chin. “Now, who wants to go horseback riding this afternoon?”

“Oh, me! Me!” Entrapta yells around a mouthful of bacon. “And while we’re out there, Hordak should tell you about our invention. We need investors, and since you’re handing out money to everybody now --”

“ _Stop,_ ” Prime commands, standing so quickly that his chair nearly turns over. 

It’s enough to silence even Entrapta. Everyone stops eating and turns their heads toward Prime.

“Uncle Skeletor, you were insensate for years,” Prime says quietly. Slowly he sinks back into his seat. “Your health seems to have improved, but your brains must be scrambled if you think you can return from the brink of death to throw good money after politicians and get _married_ to whomever has latched onto you.” 

Uncle Skeletor regards his oldest nephew coolly. “My brain is working better than ever. As for marriage, it’s something I should have found a way to do a long time ago.” He stares down at the tablecloth, his green eyes growing glassy. “Definitely after the accident with all your parents. But my own grief weighed me down --” He sighs. “Marriage isn’t the only thing I wish I would have done differently. I should have been a better uncle back then, when you all became my responsibility. But now I’m ready to make amends.” 

Catra stares at her uncle baldly. She can’t remember a single time he’s ever shown remorse for his cold, distant guardianship. She glances at Hordak again, who appears as flabbergasted as she feels.

The words apparently bring Prime up short, as well. “This has nothing to do with --” He stops. His face, red and blotchy before, now appears pale and clammy. “That’s irrelevant. Clearly you’re still unwell. You can’t possibly manage your affairs now." 

Skeletor shakes his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, nephew. I’m ready to reclaim my life. And I’m starting by marrying the woman I’ve loved for thirty years!”

“Thirty _years_? You sound ridiculous,” Prime scoffs. “I’m going to talk to the attorneys and --”

“Is this a good time to introduce myself as your fiancée, Skel?”

The voice comes from the archway behind Catra, and it belongs to a tall Asian woman in her late sixties or early seventies. She has light brown skin and a sunglasses tan around her eyes and across her temples, and smile lines extend around the corners of her mouth. Her long, obviously dyed dark hair is partly pulled back, framing her strong jaw and pointed chin. She wears a flowing sleeveless vest over a silky peasant blouse and a glittery, star shaped brooch over her heart. Her tapered slacks are cut short at the ankle, and her kitten-heeled sandals reveal a royal purple pedicure and veiny, old person feet. 

The woman looks around the hushed room at everyone’s stunned expressions. “Hello everyone, I’m Casta.” Then her shaped brows raise in surprise. “Glimmer? What are you doing here?”

“I did say I’ve met your parents, dear,” Skeletor says, passing a croissant to Glimmer.

*_*_*_*_*_*

**Runaway Train**

Glimmer hustles down the long hallway after Prime. It’s a feat to catch up to him since his legs are so much longer than hers, and because her gold gladiator sandals and tight white capris are made for style rather than for ease of movement. She shuffles past a chronological series of framed Santa Fe Opera posters that span seasons 1987 through 1998, then steps out a pair of double doors. Unlike the tile and terracotta of the front courtyard, this secluded patio is decorated with all modern features.

Prime sits hunched on a granite slab bench that’s positioned beneath a stylized sun face fresco. Sweat stains have already formed in the armpits of his short sleeved button down. He squints at a business card in one hand and clutches his cell phone in the other. 

Well, finding Prime is one thing. Knowing what to say to him is entirely another.

“Hey,” Glimmer calls out. It’s a start. She picks her way along the beveled tile pathway, taking care to stay far from the barrel cactus border.

Prime doesn’t look up until Glimmer’s shadow falls across his face. He is flushed with an early tinge of sunburn. “Oh, good, you’re here. Before I call the lawyers about reinstating my uncle’s conservatorship, you need to talk to your aunt. Convince her not to marry my crazy uncle.”

 _You’re the one who sounds crazy,_ Glimmer thinks. “I can’t --” she trails off as she sees the wildness in Prime’s eyes.

“He wasn’t making any sense, saying he loved your aunt thirty years ago,” Prime ruminates as though Glimmer hasn’t said a word. “I don’t remember anyone like her around then. Frankly, I assumed Skeletor was only interested in men. He had a close friend who visited when I was a kid, some cardiologist who got married and then stopped coming around. His name was Doctor --” he says the name, and Glimmer’s eyes widen. “But there was never anyone else --”

“The doctor -- that was my Aunt Casta, before -- ” Glimmer pauses. She doesn’t know all the right words yet. And sometimes, the other name springs to Glimmer’s tongue, a muscle memory. But Glimmer practiced saying “Aunt Castaspella” in front of the updated family portrait, and now she never says the wrong name aloud. “That was before Casta felt comfortable showing everyone who she really is. She and her wife divorced amicably a few years back, and now -- now she can be herself, with all of us.” Hopefully it’s enough to make Prime understand.

Prime straightens and slowly returns the phone to his pocket. “Oh,” is all he says. It’s impossible to know what he might be thinking.

“So Skeletor loved Aunt Casta for all these years,” Glimmer says to fill the silence. “And she must have felt something, too, or she never would have reconnected with him. You know, Casta is probably the one who saved Skeletor. She did research at Harvard Medical School, and she came up with so many treatments that they joked she could do magic.”

Prime remains silent. He swipes his palm over his head. The gel has melted in the heat, leaving his hair a flat, greasy mess. He sneers at the gunk on his hand, then glares at Glimmer. “So I’m supposed to -- what, be grateful? That your family is destroying everything I built?”

A sweat droplet trickles down Glimmer’s spine, under her blouse. She resists the urge to scratch. “What are you talking about?” she asks quietly. 

“I doubled the Horde family fortune after I left the military, all on my own time and separate from my company. But now my formerly penurious uncle wants to give everything away. He’s transformed into a feckless philanthropist because of your --” Prime pauses, and a look crosses his face, and Glimmer stares him down, willing him to say whatever epithet he might be thinking. “-- Because of your aunt,” he finishes, breaking eye contact. Glimmer exhales a breath she didn’t know she was holding as Prime continues, “If Skeletor keeps handing out the money I earned to my barnacle cousin and my idiot brother, soon there will be nothing left.” 

Glimmer tilts her head to the side. “But aren’t you at least a little glad that your uncle is feeling better again? So that he can enjoy the years he has left?”

“Casta’s not the only one trying to take everything,” Prime says, ignoring Glimmer’s words. “Your mother --”

"Hold on,” Glimmer growls through her rising anger. “My aunt doesn’t need a thing from your uncle. She grew wealthy on her own during her career. As for my mom, well, I know for a fact that you’ve made more money working for her than you ever did running your own firm. I don’t understand why you even want to take your old company back.”

“Because it’s mine!” Prime blurts, admitting his treachery aloud for the first time. “I would have clawed it back under my control by now, too, but for --” He glares at her, sweeping his eyes from the crown of her head down to her sandals.

 _“Me?”_ Glimmer says. “You’re blaming your problems on me?!”

“You’ve distracted me from my goals since the day you seduced me.”

“Wow.” Glimmer laughs past the lump in her throat. There’s a part of her that wants to throw the truth about her supposed seduction in Prime’s shiny red face, to finally let him know what a jerk he’s been all along, but there’s no point; not if that’s how he feels about her. “You’re the one who’s trying to destroy all the good things -- all the good _people_ in your life.” She swallows and blinks fast. “You’re the one getting in the way of everybody’s happiness. Including mine.”

“You -- that’s not --” Prime reaches for her, but Glimmer steps back. There’s no way she’d let him touch her right now, after what he’s said. He drops his hand and rises. “I’m driving into town to talk to the attorneys and put a stop to my uncle’s nonsense. We’ll talk later.” 

“Whatever. I owe Casta my congratulations.” As Glimmer turns away from Prime, she’s relieved to find that she is far too enraged to cry.

\-------

Glimmer stews in the empty pool house for a while, but eventually she rolls off the couch, fixes her makeup, and pulls on a pair of jeans. She hasn’t brought a pair of riding boots, so her sneakers will have to do. 

The staffer named Falcon picks up Glimmer in a dusty, beefed-up golf cart. Just as Prime complained, Falcon is a true desert aficionado, and he lectures Glimmer on the landforms and local wildlife all the way to the stables. She’s happy to let him talk, Cape Cod twang and all.

Aunt Casta is already there, leaning against the stables and dressed from head to toe in expensive but understated Western wear. She tips her woven straw cowboy hat up as a greeting.

“Um, sorry I ran out at breakfast. I’m really happy for you, Aunt Casta,” Glimmer says as she allows her aunt to embrace her in a cloud of Shalimar perfume.

Aunt Casta releases Glimmer and pats her cheek. “I am calling your father tomorrow to tell him the news. Honestly, I don’t think he’ll be very surprised. Micah surely remembers how it was with me and Skeletor, back when we were all young and before our lives grew so . . . complicated.”

Glimmer nods. She’s had enough of complicated relationships for the time being. “Are your kids excited?” she asks of her cousins.

“Oh, you know Starla. Always looking to complain about the ‘yolk of conventional matrimony,’ but that’s what I get for sending her to Oberlin. Anyway, she’ll come around. As for Jewel and Tallstar, they’re both pleased. And your Aunt Shadow is coming to the wedding with her new husband,” Casta adds, referring to her ex-wife. “She even offered to read a poem.”

“That’s wonderful,” Glimmer says, feeling genuine joy about everything except for Aunt Shadow’s poetry. “Congratulations.”

“The grandkids can’t wait to visit out here,” Aunt Casta continues. “I set up one of the guest cottages with all their favorite cartoon characters, you know.”

 _Of course._ “I thought I heard something about ninja turtles.”

“What about you, sweetie?” Aunt Casta asks, leading Glimmer into the building. “It was certainly a surprise to see you here. A good one, of course. But you seem to have a very different opinion of my union than your -- than Skeletor’s nephew.”

“Prime and I don’t agree on much of anything right now, least of all about what should make people happy.” Glimmer mumbles. She gestures toward a reddish quarter horse, who is gazing placidly at her from inside its stall. “So, are you ready to ride?”

Aunt Casta grins conspiratorially. “Come with me. We’ll take the best horses before the others get here.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*

**Cowboy Take Me Away**

Hordak has no interest whatsoever in horseback riding. Even being near the hay makes his allergies and asthma flare up, so he’s stuffed his pockets with antihistamine tabs and an inhaler. But it’s not so bad up here on the viewing platform above the riding arena, beneath a canvas canopy shade, in a comfortable wooden chair beside his uncle. The heat is brutal, but the breeze makes it almost pleasant. 

“Another Arnold Palmer?” Skeletor asks, pointing to the pitcher of lemonade and iced tea on the table between them.

“No thanks,” Hordak says, shaking his still half-full glass.

Down in the ring, Entrapta squeals with delight as her butter-colored Palomino trots around a barrel. Adora follows close behind on a majestic white steed named Swift Wind. Catra, sweaty and frazzled after having fallen off her pony earlier, leans against the rail and cheers on the riders. Prime, mercifully, is nowhere to be seen.

"Hello darlings! We're back,” Casta calls from the trailhead beyond the ring. She and Glimmer are mounted on two long legged roans that stamp impatiently, having just returned from the ride. “We’ll join you after we’ve brought the horses to the stable. And Skel, my love, don’t forget to take your pills.”

Skeletor, stretched out on the only loveseat in the tent, pulls a pill case from his pocket and shakes it in Casta’s direction with a toothy grin. Then he palms three multi-colored tabs and knocks them back, the way that he used to do with his scotch.

A black cat slinks around the table, then hops up onto Skeletor’s lap. Skeletor scratches it under the chin. “So, Hordak, my boy. Tell me about your investment opportunity.”

Hordak takes a deep breath and glances down at Entrapta again. He’s not much of a salesman, but he believes in her work. He does his best to explain why Skeletor should fork over the cash.

When Hordak finishes, Skeletor nods. He takes his napkin and dabs at the sheen of sweat on his forehead. “You and Entrapta have a fresh idea, and it's bold of you to start something up while you’re still so young.” 

"What’s bold?" Catra asks, sauntering up and then reclining in the chair next to Hordak.

“The invention into which I’m about to invest many hundreds of thousand dollars,” Skeletor answers, and Catra wrinkles her nose. “Oh, Catra, don’t worry, I’m giving you the Jamaica Plain condo you love so much. Between that and the campaign money, you and Hordak should be covered, since I’m giving Prime the deed to the Winchester house. If he ever speaks to me again, that is.”

Hordak looks at Catra, whose lips are pressed into a thin line. He can’t see her eyes because she’s wearing a pair of Brad-Pitt-in-Fight-Club style sunglasses.

“That’s very generous, Uncle Skeletor,” Hordak says, his voice low, because “thank you” isn’t enough, because maybe his uncle owes him after a lifetime of distance, because Entrapta will absolutely freak out.

“Yeah, thanks,” Catra says, apparently feeling something similar.

Skeletor stretches, and it seems as though every joint in his body pops. “When Casta and I reunited last year, I was amazed that she had found a way to be herself, even to her own kids and grandkids. Of course you know she’s --”

“Yeah,” Hordak says, and Catra nods, acknowledging that he and his cousin both know that Casta is a trans woman. After breakfast, Adora privately explained more about the Moon family to Hordak and Catra, and Hordak finally understood the context of the old Horde family snapshot back in Boston.

“Casta gave me a new lease on life,” Skeletor continues. “I vowed to do right by her, and by all my family, finally, before it’s too late. I hope this is a start, at least.”

Hordak looks down at Entrapta again. “Thank you for being the family I need, now.”

“Yeah, for me too,” Catra agrees.

“Your parents would have wanted it this way.” Skeletor looks toward the stables, from which Casta and Glimmer are emerging. “It’s not your fault, but it hurt me that the two of you couldn’t even remember Randor and Marlena, or Keldor and Teela. And Prime, of course, missed them all desperately, and he let me know just how much he hated me for being an insufficient replacement. I pushed him away, and I shouldn’t have been surprised when he left to make his own mark, first in the military and then in finance.” The breeze kicks up, and he coughs. “The three of you have done well, in spite of all the ways I failed you.”

Hordak glances at Catra once more. She’s gazing out toward the Arizona horizon. 

“Anyway, you kids are the best. I’m lucky to have you.”

They sit together in silence for a long time. There’s a shred of a moment that Hordak almost wishes that Prime were here, basking in this strange new love. But it’s all too easy to recall that Prime is the source of all his misery, and the desire is quickly quashed.

Finally, Catra clears her throat. “So should we like, hug or something?”

Skeltor raises a bushy eyebrow, clearly confused. “We’re New Englanders, Catra. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Then he cackles, and Hordak and Catra laugh too.

“Hello, darling husband-to-be,” Casta calls as she steps onto the platform. Glimmer follows her.

“Hello, wife-to-be,” Skeletor says, scooting over and patting the seat beside him. “How were the horses?”

“Very horsey,” Glimmer answers. Gingerly, she sits down on an empty chair and helps herself to a glass of lemonade. “It’s been a long time since I’ve ridden,” she adds, then immediately blushes.

Catra pulls her sunglasses down and meets Hordak’s eye. He can’t remember if he’s ever seen her trying so hard to suppress her laughter.

\--------

“Everything in me says to distrust Uncle Skeletor right now, but I just -- don’t,” Catra says as she walks along the gravel road beside Hordak, back to the guest cottages. 

“I know what you mean,” Hordak agrees. He watches Catra push her sunglasses up onto her head and tries to remember how long it’s been since he felt the same distrust toward her. “But I think he’s sincere.”

“He was sincere about writing the check for Adora’s campaign, at least,” Catra replies.

Up ahead, Falcon screams something unintelligible but which probably includes, “Entrapta, for the love of God, get out of the driver’s seat and let me drive the golf cart again.” Adora’s howl of laughter, or possibly terror, echoes across the mesa.

“Things are starting to look up for the Horde family.” Catra nudges Hordak with her elbow.

“Most of us, anyway,” Hordak responds, as Prime’s rental car slows down beside them.

The car stops, and Hordak and Catra step into the brush to avoid the dust cloud. Hordak considers ignoring his brother altogether, but he can’t help recalling that earlier, nonsensical longing for family harmony.

Prime rolls down his window. Hordak can see a pile of paperwork on the front seat of the rental car.

“I can’t imagine that either of _you_ would want to sign these documents to help me reinstate Skeletor’s conservatorship,” Prime says, his voice dripping with disdain. But he wouldn’t bother to say anything at all if he weren’t getting desperate. “Not without cutting some kind of deal with me, anyway.”

“Not. Interested,” Catra answers. Hordak nods in agreement.

“I don’t _need_ your signatures on these documents, of course,” Prime says. “There’s a messier process where I can sue for control of the trust. The court would have to freeze the assets and revoke the money he’s planning to spend.” 

“Taking away Skeletor’s freedom won’t help you,” Hordak says, clenching his fists at his sides. 

“I can drag out the lawsuit for years. Make Skeletor draw down his accounts to fight it. Leave him with a fraction of what he has now.”

“You’d rather burn everything down than build something good,” Catra says, picking at her nails. “I know that feeling. I used to live that way.” She glances at Hordak, and though she’s never apologized for stealing his financial information and ruining his credit before he left for college, he is pretty sure that’s what she’s thinking about. “Just because Hordak and I are getting something for the first time doesn’t mean that you’re losing anything meaningful. Uncle Skeletor wants to renew our family, and we’re -- sort of -- I don’t know, willing to try. And whatever it is you have with Glimmer -- it’s weird, but you two seem to get along. You could start something new with all of us -- or you could lose everything that matters, for good. Don’t sue. Don’t do this.” 

Prime’s glare wavers. An unsettled expression passes across his face. But then he blinks away the uncertainty and glares up at Hordak. “I don’t need any of you.” Prime hits the gas, and this time Catra and Hordak are coated in the plume of dirt.

“What a dumbass,” Catra coughs, her voice full of pain.

Hordak can’t respond. He’s already jogging up the road, though his lungs are on fire. He needs to grab the person he loves more than anyone in the entire world, and get the hell away from Prime.

*_*_*_*_*_*

[to be continued]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did my best to write Trans Casta right (and thank you to the people with lived experience who took the time to discuss her character with me), but please don’t hesitate to let me know if you think this story should have additional tags, notes, or updates. Thank you!
> 
> As for Prime and Skeletor, obviously I'm taking them their own way with their characters. I’m hopeful that it’s interesting, but obviously Prime is no religious cult leader here. Just a selfish jerk whose suffering doesn’t excuse his jerkery! And clearly, Skeletor has grown more self-aware since his days as He-Man’s foil.
> 
> Thank you for reading, kudosing, and especially commenting!


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